Fear of Gray
by Pand-tasticninja
Summary: me trying my hand at horror. Enjoy. no flame c! Rated t for blood.


A few years ago, I was living in the city. I lived in a small apartment in the shady part of town, but that couldn't be helped. My job didn't pay much, being a cashier at a fast food restaurant never usually gave a lot. I was enrolled at the local collage, trying to get a degree in literature, to get _somewhere_ in life. That was a couple years ago, and there's a reason I'm living with my parents again in the more urban part of the state.

It was late at night, I had just gotten home from another exhausting day at work. I did my usually routine, take my shoes off, place my keys in the dish next to the door, grab a soda from the kitchen. But this night was different, just the air around me sent a chill up my spine. I just shook it off and blamed it on the AC, which seemed to turn off and on at random times.

I sat on my couch in front of the T.V, and switched it on. I watched the news for a bit, before it shut off. Not only the T.V, but the lamp near it. This made me a bit concerned but power-outs were normal around here. I went to my window and checked outside to see if anyone else was dealing with this too. Around the neighborhood all the other lights were on...

My train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. I looked further out the window and saw no one. Who would be over here at eleven at night anyway? I was so lost in my thoughts that when I looked up I jumped. There was a man standing at my window, his hands pressed against the glass. His face was covered in a scarf or a bandana. I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest. Probably just some beggar asking for money. The curtain was closed so I couldn't see him anymore, but his eyes were at the forefront of my mind. That lifeless gray, that glowed slightly. It was unsettling.

I sat back on the couch, and noticed I had dropped my drink near the window. I sighed and went to the kitchen to get a rag to clean the floor. When I entered the living room again, my blood ran cold. The curtain was open, and he was staring at me. I thought my heart stopped. I ran back into the kitchen and huddled in the corner. Forget beggar, he was probably a mugger. If I just stayed here, hopefully he wouldn't come in. Or he would think I have nothing valuable to take.

I heard the familiar creek of my door opening, and my heart jumped into my throat. He was in my house. Didn't I lock the door? I _always_ lock the door! How'd he get in? Did he have a lock pick or something? I strained to hear anything further, but there was nothing but silence. A quiet that could send chills through anyone. It just wasn't natural.

"Come out." The voice, wasn't human. It was croaky and sounded as if he had liquid in his mouth. My shoulders started shaking. What did this man want from me? Where was my phone? I needed to call the cops. I saw him cross into the living room, clear on the floor a trail of dark red blood. It looked almost fresh. I nearly gagged.

"Where are you?" He asked, his voice again breaking the unnatural quite as he turned toward the kitchen. My heart really stopped this time. He wasn't wearing whatever was covering his mouth. His lips were pulled back into a seemingly painful smile, blood oozing past the corners of this mouth. His teeth razor sharp, lined up like a sharks. He was looking straight at me. A scream just barely passed my lips before he was in front of me. He was so close that I felt overwhelmed by the stench of blood reeking from him. I didn't blink, I just stared into those eyes. They were wide and now filled with a joy that made me shiver. It was like he had found his prey.

"I found you." He whispered, his mouth not moving. Nothing on his face changed . I think that was more unsettling then him getting into my house, trailing blood on my floor, and his eyes. He talked without even moved a muscle. My legs began to move on their own, pulling me up and away from this _thing. _It was _not_ human. No where near it. I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my phone, dialing nine-one-one. I found my voice long enough to tell them what was wrong. A break in.

I stayed hidden in my room until they came. But the man wasn't here. There was no trail of blood on the floor. My apartment door was closed and locked when they got here. They told me I was probably sleep deprived and had imagined it. I just nodded and told them that they were probably right. Though I knew in my heart that it was too real to be fake.

A few weeks after that I dropped out of school, quit my job and moved back in with my parents. I couldn't take living in that apartment. It felt like I was being watched. Every now and again I see those cold dead eyes, enlightened with joy. And I hear that voice, whispering "I found you"


End file.
